


Blossom, Burst, Bloom

by kyunism



Category: AB6IX (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Garden Fairy!Woong, M/M, Woojin can't Cope, with anythign rlly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyunism/pseuds/kyunism
Summary: Woojin gets a plant. He also gets a boyfriend. These are both directly correlated.





	Blossom, Burst, Bloom

In hindsight, none of this would’ve happened if Woojin just listened to Daehwi. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course but it’s an undeniable fact that Woojin can’t escape, no matter how hard he tries.

Sure, maybe he had been worrying his friends with his so called “unhealthy” behaviour. Maybe he had been spending too long at the studio and not getting enough sleep. Maybe he had worked himself to the point of exhaustion. Maybe he wasn’t taking the best care of himself. Sure, whatever, it’s not the first time.

But Daehwi took it upon himself to get involved. He decided to provide a solution. Lee Daehwi woke up one morning and thought, ‘sure, I’ll help my friend function like a proper fucking human being, why not?’ He’s not the first person to think so. Donghyun and Youngmin have both made great efforts to turn Woojin into a functional member of society and not some sweaty grumbling that lives in the practice room and consumes worn out shoes and the tears of dancers for sustenance. 

However, Lee Daehwi is the only one to give Woojin a fucking plant.

“No.” Is Woojin’s first reaction upon seeing the little potted fuck. White flowers and green leaves that practically spill over the edges of the pot.

“Yes.” Daehwi simply says. “You can’t take care of yourself, so you might as well try taking care of a plant. Maybe responsibility will stop you from being a self-destructive mess.”

Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, Woojin regrets allowing his generosity to take over and let this scrawny little freshman live with him. “Fuck you.” He sighs. “I don’t want some… some fucking daisies.”

Daehwi sniffs. “It’s a double flowered kalanchoe.” He says, haughtily, like he knows what that means. “And you better take care of him.”

“Please don’t give it a name.” Woojin sighs.

“His name is Woong.” Daehwi retorts.

“That’s a stupid name.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“It’s seven in the fucking am.” Donghyun sighs, pushing past both of them to grab a cup of coffee. They both steadfastly ignore him.

“If you don’t like it, then why don’t you come up with a better name?” Daehwi challenges. The very sight of his scrawny little defiant ass makes Woojin’s blood boil.

“I fucking will.” He spits back.

“Then what is it.” 

For a moment, Woojin blanks. He purses his lips. Furrows his brows. Thinks. Thinks really, really, _really_ fucking hard. Then it comes to him, like a bolt of lighting. “Lord Death Fuck.” He proclaims, confidently.

Donghyun snorts coffee onto the counter. Daehwi’s entire face sours. “Jesus Christ.” He says, like he’s speaking around a mouthful of acid. “What is wrong with you.”

“It’s a cool name.”

“It’s a dumb name.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

Youngmin stumbles into the dining room, hair messy, eye bags deep. “What the fuck is up dudes.” He yawns. “Finally fucking finished my essay. What’re we talking about.”

Woojin turns to him with a broad grin. “Hyung, meet Lord Death Fuck.”

Youngmin pauses. Frowns. Tilts his head. Looks directly at Woojin, nods, and says a simple but effective, “Wicked.”

On the table, Lord Death Fuck’s leaves seem to rustle in delight.

✿

Woojin takes care of Lord Death Fuck for a couple of days.

Apparently double flower coochies or whatever don’t need a lot of water, and mostly just sit in the sun and look pretty, so Woojin’s happy to just do that. He has to admit, it looks kind of nice in his room. It’s a bit out of place amongst the figurines and statuettes, but the white petals are kinda pretty in the light. And routine’s always come a bit naturally to him, so it’s no big deal to sprinkle Lord Death Fuck with a bit of water and trim away the dead leaves every couple of days or so. 

But then some kid drops their dance major, and the midterm showcase is three weeks away, and Woojin’s expected to pick up their spot in the routine.

The plant kind of escapes him at that point. There’s choreography and positioning and rehearsals and all the regular bullshit that he has to learn and upperclassmen keep wanting him to rap for their music and shit and Woojin is spending more time out of his house than in it eventually. Life becomes a series of moving from location to location, a series of sequences that he has to memorize, and time and routine become meaningless soon enough.

It’s about two weeks into this, into this bullshit, when things come to ahead. Woojin’s coming home, dropping his bag in the corner, and turning around and then.

Just. Going blank.

The boy in Woojin’s bed is pretty. Objectively. Face soft, lips plush, eyes gentle. His hair is white, but rather than fried it falls softly around his face. His clothes are all white too, loose and flowing, shirt sliding off his shoulder and exposing the barest hint of collarbone. With the light streaming through the open blinds, he looks like a real life fucking angel.

In that light, Woojin can also see little green leaves curling through the soft locks of hair.

The boy stands up, tugging at his shirt, shifting in place. He clears his throat. “Uh, hi!” He squeaks. His eyes dart all around, never quite staying in one place. He licks his lips. Woojin’s eyes track the movement. “You uh… I’m. I’m your roommate. I suppose.”

Woojin should probably ask some questions. Maybe even flirt a bit. Clear the air, break the ice, get to know the guy and get to understand just what the fuck is happening.

“You’re tiny.” Wooden blurts instead. Because he is fucking stupid.

The boy’s face reddens and his lips purse. “I am _not.” _He huffs. “I am very average for a fairy.”__

__“You’re rather small for a human though.” Woojin hums._ _

__“How dare—“ The boy starts, then stops, shaking his head. “That’s besides the point! You need to take better care of me!”_ _

__Woojin blinks. “Listen, buddy, I’ve never seen you. Ever. I don’t know—“_ _

__The boy points towards the plant, still in its pot on the windowsill. “I’ve just been sitting there, burning up, dying for a sip of water! Just one drop, that’s all I want!”_ _

__Woojin opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Wait, so you’re Lord Death Fuck?”_ _

__The boy’s entire face crumples from indignation to disappointment. “My name is Woong.” He says defeatedly. “I live inside your double flowered kalanchoe and your neglect is killing me. I don’t want to die.” Then the boy bows, ninety degrees, right down to his knees, and says, “please take care of me.”_ _

__Then disappears, in a cloud of petals and sparkles, and leaves behind one very confused Park Woojin. One very gay Park Woojin. One Park Woojin who is slowly coming to the realization that he has been slowly killing the cutest boy he has ever seen in his entire life._ _

__Park Woojin then decides to water the plant, climb into bed, and wail in despair._ _

__Fucking Lee Daehwi._ _

____

✿

In typical Lee Daehwi fashion, the little bitch boy does not have a shred of sympathy.

“I told you to take care of it.” He says flippantly, snatching up a piece of beef from the grill with delicate fingers. “You should’ve listened.”

“And you should’ve told me that there was a fucking fairy living in my plant.” Woojin hisses back. He snatches up the next three bits of meat, just to spite the skinny bastard. Next to him, Youngmin whines as all the food is taken.

Donghyun sighs, adding more meat to the grill. “You probably should’ve mentioned that Daehwi.” He admonishes gently, but still sternly. “He’s another living creature with thoughts and feelings, not just a toy.”

Daehwi pouts, and Woojin jeers, but not for long, because Donghyun swiftly adds “but _you_ should’ve taken better care of the plant whether there was a fairy there or not.”

Woojin feels the smug superiority drain out of him, and he slumps in his seat. “I got busy.” He mutters.

Youngmin groans, swiping the meat from the grill with one smooth movement. “You’re always busy.” He says, matter-of-fact. “The point of the plant was to get you to slow the fuck down.”

Woojin stares down at his small dish of sauce and doesn’t say a word. The silence feels suffocating, and he can practically feel the others exchange looks over his head. 

“Just, take better care of his home. And also like. Apologize for forgetting.” Youngmin suggests, clapping an awkward hand against Woojin’s back.

Woojin says nothing, nods, and shoves more meat into his mouth. It tastes good, but does nothing to settle the twisting of his stomach.

✿

Like he does with most of Youngmin’s advice, Woojin listens to about half of it. As in, he starts taking care of Woong, but doesn’t apologize.

He doesn’t talk to Woong at all, really. It’s not that he doesn’t see Woong. He does, naturally, because he’s now their fifth roommate who doesn’t really leave the house. He Woong sitting on the coach soaking up the sun, or in the kitchen hesitantly tasting chocolate pudding, or fast asleep on Woojin’s bed in a mess of blankets. Woojin would normally take issue with this, considering that it’s his spot on the couch and his chocolate pudding and his bed that Woong’s using, but he says nothing. Just keeps going.

He waters Woong’s plant, but only when he’s one hundred and ten percent sure that Woong won’t be there. Like on the days where Daehwi drags him out of the house to experience a mall for the first time, or when Donghyun wrestles him into the bathroom to wash his hair. He trims the dead leaves and spritzes water into the sandy dirt when he is Absolutely Certain that he won’t be caught.

Youngmin disapproves, in his own special Youngmin way. Not saying anything, but frowning and pursing his lips and staring at Jihoon with quiet disapproval. One pointed look is enough to dispel it, but the weight of the gaze lingers, settling uncomfortably against his skin.

Woojin knows that he’s avoiding it. And that it’s out of character for him to avoid things. But he’s just. Really. Really. Gay. And if he doesn’t avoid his crushes then he fights them, because he doesn’t know how to express attraction normally. God knows how many fist fights he got into because of his stupid unrequited crush on Park Jihoon in his freshman year.

But it’s not just the crush, it’s the embarrassment. The understanding that yes, Woojin kinda fucked up a lot. He can admit it. But facing it? A whole other story. He hurt Woong, put his life at risk, and if Woong didn’t confront him about it, Woojin never would’ve fixed his mistakes. And that’s kind of fucked up.

What’s even more fucked up is that Woong is the one to fix it again.

Woojin comes home from practice, and finds Woong on his bed. Legs crossed, shirt loose, hair messy, looking gorgeous. The exact same way Woojin found him before. But instead of shifting nervously or looking away, Woong offers a hesitant smile.

“Hey.” He offers. “I… haven’t seen you around a lot.”

Woojin wets his lips. “Yeah.” He says in return. “Just… been busy.”

Tension settles like a blanket, thick and heavy and suffocating. Woojin feels the grave forming beneath his feet and readies himself to lie in it.

“Listen—“

“I’m sorry.” Woojin blurts, and there go the floodgates. “It was really shitty for me to just ignore you like that and I wouldn’t have ignored you if I had known that you existed but that’s _also_ super shitty because I should’ve just fucking cared for the plant in the first place, basically I’m just kinda shitty and I feel bad—“

“Okay.” Woong says mildly, with the delicacy of a bomb defusal squad. “It’s all good.”

Woojin drops his practice bag to the floor, and waves his arms in the air. “It definitely isn’t!” He shouts. Woong cringes at the volume. Woojin feels the fight leave him like a deflating balloon.

Then Woong looks up at him, eyes filled with an feeling that Woojin can’t place. It’s endearing and soft and amused and it has Woojin flushing up to his ears. “You apologized, didn’t you?” Woong says. His voice is sweet as honey. “I forgive you.”

“But—“ Woojin tries, but Woong just shouts over his words.

“No buts!” Woong cheerfully announces. “We’re friends now.”

Woojin, very lost, only nods. “Okay.” He says faintly.

Then Woong gets up and grabs him by the wrist and pulls him out the door. “And you’re make me kimbap, because Daehwi told me about it and it sounds really good.

And Woojin follows without another word.

✿

It’s embarrassingly simple, being with Woong.

Woojin wasn’t aware of the Woong sized shape in his heart, but Woong slots himself in without any hesitation. It’s like Woojin always had Woong. He can’t imagine a life without him.

Woong is the one to wake him, each and every day. At first he would just stand over Woojin’s bed and gently call his name, and then he upgraded to prodding. Then to poking. Then to yelling. And then finally to just. Climbing into bed with Woojin, octopus-ing all over him and pinching his cheeks until Woojin finally groans and throws him off. 

Unlike the others, Woojin doesn’t have morning classes — a victory he lords over them whenever possible. So breakfast is just him and Woong, alone in the apartment. Some mornings they goof off, throw spoons at each other and sing off tune to songs on the radio. Other mornings they’re quiet, Woong sitting on the counter and quietly watching Woojin cook whatever. 

He takes Woong out whenever possible. It’s fun, walking him around the city, watching him experience the human world for the first time. The way his eyes light up and sparkle and the way his face splits into a bright grin when discovering something new. The first time he tried cotton candy, the first time he saw a cat on a leash, the first time it hailed. Woojin doesn’t normally do outings, but he finds himself dragging Woong out of the house more often than not.

It pays off though, when Woong thanks him over rootbeer floats.

Woojin blinks. “Why?”

Woong smiles shyly, ducking his head into the drink. “I was… kinda scared.” He admits, swirling his straw around his glass. “I’m pretty young for a garden fairy, around your age I guess? I had always been with my parent’s plant but then I was given my very own sprout and then all of a sudden I was in a new place…” He shrugs, and looks out the window.

It’s dark outside. The diner they’re in is retro, all neon and tile and rollerblading servers. The lights outside are purple and pink, drowning Woong in a cotton candy glow. Woojin drinks him in, like a sunflower at daybreak. “Yeah?” He manages, in a murmur, deep and low in his throat.

Woong hums. “I was really scared. Coming out into the Real Human World by myself.” Then he turns and looks at Woojin, and the purple pink glow filling his eyes stops Woojin’s heart in his chest. He smiles. “I’m glad I met you.”

Woojin takes a sip of his rootbeer float. It’s thick, it’s sweet, it’s nauseating. He doesn’t say a word.

✿

“Ask him out.” Says Donghyun, gaze focused on an essay about communist Russia.

“Ask him out.” Says Youngmin, doubled over and sweating in a practice room.

“Fucking ask him out.” Says Daehwi, balls deep in a composition.

And for once in his fucking life, Woojin listens to them. 

“Hey.” He says, one day, when Woong is discovering the wonders of 2007 memes. “What’s dating like for fairies?”

Woong chokes, stiffens, and flushes from his chest into his hairline. Mildly, Woojin wonders how he ever had any doubts.

“…there’s a courting process.” Woong says hesitantly. He steadfastly avoids eye-contact. “In which you give your flower to the one you want to ask out.”

Woojin’s already on his feet. “Be right back.” He says, and darts out of the room.

He comes back to find Woong blankly staring at the empty space he left behind. “Okay so,” Woojin starts. Woong snaps his gaze back over to him. “I don’t really have a plant, but Daehwi has a shit ton and this place is under my name so basically what’s his is mine, right?”

A small smile teases the edges of Woong’s lips, and the amusement drenches his voice when he says “Right.”

Woojin grins at him. “And I don’t know what the fuck this is but this seems appropriate—“ And from behind his back he pulls two small purple flowers, slightly crushed from his grip. “But either way, wanna like, fuckin’ date or something?”

Woong’s grin is broad, bright, and blinding. He gets up, standing in front of Woojin. He lets Woojin tuck the flowers into his white locks. Then, and only then, does he lean forwards, plant a kiss on Woojin’s nose, and say “hell yeah.”

Something blooms and blossoms, bright and beautiful. On the windowsill, the double flowered kalanchoe preens in the sunlight.

**Author's Note:**

> love these Boys


End file.
